


First Fantasy NaNoWriMo: 16-: He of the Blade

by SkiesOverTokyo



Series: FirstFan NaNoWriMo Drabbles [16]
Category: First Fantasy (Webcomic)
Genre: Drabble, Fantasy, Mystery, OBLIGATORY DARK SOULS REFERENCES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16644038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkiesOverTokyo/pseuds/SkiesOverTokyo
Summary: A mysterious figure arrives at an inn in the dead of night. Who is he? Why does he carry a gun that fires fish? Will Tam and Syl git good? How much trouble are we going to be in with From Software after this?





	First Fantasy NaNoWriMo: 16-: He of the Blade

It was one of those nights on which the world fell silent, beneath frost and fog, where any self-respecting creature was in a tree, a burrow, or somewhere where the biting blades of Mother Frost could not get to them. That was, except for me. As ever, when the moon hung full in the sky, and the winter drew in, I couldn’t sleep. It was the time where the spirits beyond were restless, and often voyaging home across the years and worlds between them and their once-living homes, and the constant prickling feeling on my neck became, whilst useful, highly irritating. Tam had long since retreated to his bed, wishing me a sleepy goodnight, and offering to keep me company if I still couldn’t sleep in a few hours so that, in essence, we both had an excuse to sleep through the early half of the day.   
Which, on reflection, was not only Tam being typically kind, but that special kind of kindness that slipped easily from Tam, where he did with, or without, something for mine or other’s benefit.  
  
I put my book down-a history of the Grand Desert Road that snaked its way north from the Dvarven Capital of Huzz across the Thousand Dunes, through myriad identical ever shifting drifts of sand, and on across the parched Badlands to the edge of the Empire-and was about to head upstairs, to wake Tam, when there was a knock-a definite fist-to-wood knock-on the inn door.  
Puzzling. The innkeeper had gone to bed hours ago, his assistant at the tavern had gone home shortly after, and there was no new guests who would arrive at this hour, nor returning ones who would bother knocking. It was a purposeful knock, so unless woodland creatures had learned how to rap upon a door in the space of one cold evening, it was definitely humanoid, and capable of stringing together the concept of knocking on the door and getting an answer. It was also unlikely to be hostile-brigands as a rule, did not knock first before storming in, and I knew for a fact that that door was unlocked were someone to try the handle.  
  
So what to do?  
Option one. Ignore the knock. This presented itself for a few moments, then disappated with a second, slightly firmer knock, as though the knock’s knocker had begun to worry that no-one had heard his knock. Animals, save for the trained door-knocking type, removed themselves from possibilities, together with anything other than very polite brigands who wanted to make sure they were robbing a occupied inn before making their appearance.  
  
This quickly left two options. First, fetch Tam and open the door together. This seemed unfair-one person would suffice. So, steeling myself, I got to my feet, and slowly walked to open the door. The mechanism was stiff with cold, but it finally clicked, and the door swung open to reveal something that took my breath away 


End file.
